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it open, calling to my father, “Da?”
    No answer.
    Dropping my purse and keys onto the table at the front foray, I ventured further into the house, first going into the living room and kitchen. He was not there, but a chair was overturned, lying on its side on the kitchen floor. My heart slamming inside my chest, I picked it up and set it back.
    I ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time to my father’s bedroom. I pushed open the door to find the room empty. His bed was neatly made, everything looked in order. I quickly checked my room, although he’d have no reason to be in there. I also checked the bathroom. The room was as I left it this morning.
    But something caught my eye as my gaze swept the small window. I rushed to it and looked down into the garden. My father lay on his side on the grass near the garden, unmoving.
    I sprinted down the stairs and out the balcony doors in a panicky rush, praying under my breath that he was still alive. I would never forgive myself if he had died on his own, alone and without help.
    As I neared him, I saw fresh angry red scratches on his hands, arms, and face. Fearing the worse, I crouched down and placed my fingers on his neck to feel for a pulse. “Da?”
    He groaned and I let the breath I was holding go, mumbling a thank you to the benevolent spirit that had heard my prayer. His pulse was strong under my fingers.
    I rolled him onto his back. That was when I saw the four-inch creature licking blood from a tiny cut on my father’s chin. In a flash, its tiny head came up and it hissed at me, its thin lips stained crimson.
    However many stories tell about the playful and whimsical nature of pixies, I knew the truth. There was no whimsy in the creature’s slanted opaque eyes as it glared and spat like a wild cat. I could feel the malevolence wafting off it like steam from a scalding shower.
    Games of fancy were not on its mind. Thoughts of blood and pain were definitely more like it by the look of venom on its tiny periwinkle face. Distending its long vicious claws, it leapt.
    Luckily, I had quick reflexes and I managed to snag the little creature, arms pinned to its sides, in my fist before it could rip out my eye, which it had definitely been aiming for.
    “Letz me go, wicked girl!” it shrieked.
    Its voice was high pitched like a bell and inaudible to most people. But I had great hearing and discerned every single syllable it snarled. “Why are you here? How did you get here?”
    The pixie struggled in my grip but I had no intention of letting go, not until I received some answers.
    “Iz always here, stupidz.”
    “I’d watch your little mouth, pest.” I increased the pressure of my grasp. “Why did you attack my father?”
    It thrashed about again, trying to release its limbs so it could rip and tear into me. But I didn’t relinquish my hold. Fury lifted its blue lips into a cruel snarl, and I could plainly see two rows of tiny razor-like teeth. I had no time to respond to its intentions before it sunk those fangs into the meaty part of my thumb.
    I yelped and nearly opened my hand, but I caught myself before I freed my prisoner. Cringing from the sharp pain singing up my arm, I gritted my teeth and asked my question again. “Why did you attack my father? Answer me or I will squeeze you like a tube of toothpaste.”
    As the pixie unhooked its teeth from my flesh and glared, blood trickled down my wrist to drip onto my pants. Its hungry gaze eyed the red path with ruthless enthusiasm. Like a thin black worm, its tongue snaked out of its gaping mouth and lapped at the crimson feast.
    Angry, I increased the pressure on its body. True to my word, I squeezed the little bugger like a tube of white goo.
    “Stopz! Stopz!” It yelped and thrashed about. “Iz tell you want youz wantz.”
    I released the pressure a little. “Go ahead.”
    “Nightfallz tell me.”
    “Who in Nightfall? What’s the person’s name?”
    It shrugged its